User blog comment:Brigadier Barty/Tavern of the Rusted Claw/@comment-3135907-20160606042751/@comment-3135907-20170118000144

"Search me. Last time I 'ad occasion to berth at Blackraven Isle, they called me..." The driftwood spar tossed crazily, and Swisher clung tighter, ending that line of thought with a nervous look at the knotted hunk of bulkhead, their only clawhold on the edge of the abyss. "Deviled if I know. In any light, 'tis a fine game o' teeter-totter we're playin', but I fer one don't feel game to keep playin'. Now, if we 'ad a goal in...mi...nd..." His voice trailed off as his eyes widened and his gummy mouth was slashed by a sudden hearty grin. "Haha, would ye lookit that, mates!"